


You Can't Say Happiness Without Saying Penis

by queerleader (autolatry)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, F/M, Humour, M/M, Mentions of knotting, Stiles You Asshole, Stiles and Jackson Are Both Dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autolatry/pseuds/queerleader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's been a peculiar new development in Jackson's sex life and he goes to Stiles for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Say Happiness Without Saying Penis

**Author's Note:**

> So I was sitting in the bath this morning and my mind began to wander toward knotting fics and I was wondering how the fuck bitten wolves find out about knotting. Like we always just presume Derek's parents gave him 'the talk' but what about the ones without werewolfy parents? Surely the job of dishing out 'the talk' must fall to the Alpha... but can you imagine Derek sitting the beta's down and starting such a discussion? 
> 
> And now this is on the internet.

There were a lot of people in Jackson's life who considered him somewhat of an idiot. He guessed his jock status and pretty girlfriend were enough to make them overlook him completely, but if they thought someone like Lydia Martin would date him solely for his popularity, they were sadly mistaken. Lydia needed someone who could keep up with her; someone who could mentally stimulate her. Although he was nowhere near Lydia's level of genius, he certainly wasn't fucking stupid. A dumb blond he was not and he could take care of himself just fine. He'd been doing that his whole life, after all. 

That was until now. Now he was well and truly fucked. 

Something had... happened. Something  _sensitive_.

...  _In the bedroom_.

Jackson liked to think he was on very good terms with his penis. They got along great and had had some really enjoyable experiences together over the years. Last night, however, while he and Lydia were paying very little attention to the movie they had rented for the night, a problem had arisen. Something that Jackson had never experienced before. Frankly, he was horrified and needed urgent advice. Since it was a particularly delicate issue, there was only one person he could go to. And God did it pain Jackson to do it. 

Stiles was huddled up in a corner booth of the diner. His back was pressed against the window, legs sprawled out across the red, pleather seats. There was a smirk on his lips when he looked up from his phone and caught Jackson's eye. He had put on a little muscle since he and Jackson had last seen each other. Not too much; a healthy amount. His hair was a mess and his eyes looked tired but he still seemed as arrogant as ever, ready to pounce on whatever Jackson was about to request of him. Long, slender fingers pocketed his phone and he straightened up, broadening his shoulders. "I was surprised when I got your text but I must admit I'm glad you picked somewhere nice and public for us to meet. Look at all these witnesses that will definitely be able to identify us after I spill my milkshake everywhere."

"I'm not here to kill you." Jackson rolled his eyes so hard that for a moment he thought he'd popped a blood vessel or something. Stilinski was so fucking aggravating. Sure, Jackson knew by now that the constant talking was just a glorified defence mechanism, but it didn't stop him from wanting to harm that asshole in some way. But like it or not, Jackson needed him. "I could use your help."

The man took a long drink from his strawberry milkshake before tilting his head back up to look at Jackson, a smug smile and bright pink stain on his lips. "I'd gathered." 

Nothing infuriated him more that that self-satisfied Stilinski smile. It made Jackson homicidal at the best of times, but still he pressed on. He dug his claws into the palms of his hands under the table and took a deep, calming breath. "It's a personal issue."

"Gathered that, too," Stiles quipped and pulled the sleeves of his mustard sweater up to his elbows. He leant forward and slapped his forearms to the table with a fleshy  _fwap_ noise, his attempt at superiority oozing off him. A low growl rumbled from deep inside Jackson's chest but before it could have its desired effect, Stiles had raised one hand in interruption. "If it wasn't personal, you'd bring it up in the pack meeting at Derek's in two days time," Stiles explained. "And it must be life or death if you're choosing to confide in me of all people. Actually, I think you'd take death over this. Yikes, I'm not sure I want to know what your little problem is after all."

Typical Stilinski. He just  _keeps talking_. Talking, talking, talking until the only way to get a word in is to punch him in the mouth. Jackson sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't care that he had messed up his perfect quiff. The time for worrying about his hair had passed. "Can you  _please_ shut up and listen for  _five minutes_. That's all I need." Stiles flexed his fingers off of the table in defeat and looked on blankly for Jackson to continue. "It kind of involves Derek. That's why I'm coming to you about it and not a sane person."

Stiles straightened up then, tilting his head slightly and crossing his arms defensively. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," He muttered quickly and pulled his head back. "You have a personal issue that involves Derek that you need to speak to me about?" The boy clarified. "What the fuck?  _No_ , man! You can't have my girl crush  _and_ my boy crush. And I've actually legitimately bagged Derek. We're like  _together_ together. Committed as shit! The man goes fishing with my dad. Fishing! You know how Derek feels about water. You know he doesn't fuck with the ocean, Jackson!"

As Stiles' voice rose higher and higher, Jackson contemplated how his life had gotten to this point. People were starting to pay attention to the pair while Stiles continued to ramble about Derek's various phobias all stemming from a childhood incident at the beach. Just when Stiles had started to get into the whole getting over Lydia thing, Jackson decided it was time to take action and gripped Stiles' sweater in his fist and pulled the flailing boy over the table so that they were eye to eye.

"Umm... ow." Stiles huffed, but his eyes were shifty and uncomfortable. Jackson couldn't help but get a nostalgic thrill from his old schoolmate's awkward unease around him. That was the Stiles he remembered; The Stiles he  _liked_. The over-confident arrogance that came from landing his place as Derek's emissary and then not so subtly landing in Derek's bed shortly after really grated on Jackson's nerves.

It was nice to remind Stiles of his place now and again. 

"Calm down and shut up," Jackson gritted out. His voice was barely a whisper but Stiles registered it. He gave a sharp nod and Jackson released him. "That was  _not_ what I meant by 'personal issue'."

Stiles whined, flattening down his now rumpled sweater and clonking his head back against the seat. "Then what did you mean?"

Now for the horrifying bit. Jackson flexed his jaw and rolled his shoulders as if that could somehow relieve some of the tension that was seizing up his spine. He stared out of the window, picking a spot in the trees and glued his eyes to it. There was no way he could watch Stiles' reaction. He really  _would_ rather die. "Last night while Lydia and I were having sex," Jackson did a great job at ignoring Stiles' muttered 'gross'. "Something happened to me that's never happened before and I need to know if it's a werewolf thing. You have a lot of sex with a werewolf. You were the obvious choice."

"It's true, I _am_ Beacon Hills' resident werewolf sex expert." Stiles hums and presses his fingertips together in contemplation. Jackson looks the fuck out of that window. "I am both alarmed and intrigued. Please continue." 

"When I was..." Oh God, why was this his life? Maybe this whole thing was payback for the years he'd bullied and belittled Stiles back in high school.  _Maybe_ if he was nicer to Stiles, his dick would go back to its usual outstanding quality. Wow. After everything he'd been through over the past nineteen years, he'd finally lost his mind. "When I was almost  _finished_ -"

"Gross."

"When I was almost finished... I felt something expand." There was a deafening silence and Jackson flicked his gaze back over to Stiles who looked truly confused. The boy blinked and when he failed to speak, Jackson lowered his voice and elaborated, "Something grew. On my dick. Like there was this big... uh, this big lump, thing."

The silence lengthened and for a while Jackson doubted Stiles was going to reply at all. Eventually, Stiles gave up on his frozen in carbonite routine and flailed his arms above his head in two sharp gestures, "AND YOU CAME TO ME INSTEAD OF THE DOCTOR?" 

All traces of sarcasm and suppressed dislike had disappeared from Stiles' tone as he stared at Jackson with panicked eyes. "So it's not normal?" If Jackson's voice had risen an octave, no one mentioned it. 

Stiles bit his lip and shook his head slowly. "I-I- No. No, I don't think so. Can you draw it?" He suggested and quickly fished through his satchel, pulling out a ballpoint pen. He then fumbled with the napkins and pushed the two items over to Jackson's side of the table, rubbing his jaw with worry.

The sight of Stiles actually being concerned for Jackson's health was enough to make Jackson's heart rate skyrocket. This was not good. Oh God, this was really not good. Jackson uncapped the pen and hastily doodled a picture of his dick and the offending growth. The hard lump was at the base, thick and freakishly large. Red cheeked and thoroughly mortified, Jackson pushed the napkin back over to Stiles for him to inspect. 

Once Stiles was done looking over the drawing, he covered his mouth with one hand, brow furrowed. Jackson couldn't take his eyes away and he didn't even notice he was leaning forward until his ribs jutted against the table edge. Stiles darted back up, his eyes searching. "And it just  _grew_?" He asked and Jackson nodded. "I don't know man, I've never seen anything like this before. I think you really need to get it checked out. What did Lydia say?"

Jackson cringed as he thought back to the incident. It had not been a pleasant experience for both parties involved. "Well, she freaked out. I was stuck inside her and every time we tried to," Jackson lowered his voice again as if that could possibly reverse any of the embarrassment he had already suffered. " _pull out_... it was painful as fuck."

Stiles gasped, scandalised. " _You were stuck inside her_?" He hissed.

"Yes!" Jackson squeaked back, not giving a fuck about how emasculating that was. "I was stuck for half an hour and I just kept coming over and over. Lydia calmed down once it reached a certain level of weird and started watching TV 'cause she figured it was werewolf related. She just filed her nails and told me to speak to Derek about it but I can't tell  _Derek_ about  _this_. But oh my God if it hasn't happened to Derek before there might be something seriously wrong with me. My dick is broke- Why are you laughing?"

Hysterical was not the word. Stiles had doubled over the table with his hands gripped to the edge so tight that his thumbs were turning white from the pressure. His forehead was pressed against the surface as he wheezed against the plastic. Large sobs of laughter left his lips while he shook with each breath and, yeah, people were definitely watching now. 

"It's normal, isn't it," Jackson asked monotony, though it wasn't a question. 

Stiles didn't bother answering, just banged his head on the tabletop a few times before looking back up with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes. His hair was a mess and he was grinning from ear to ear and Jackson had never hated anyone more. "Oh, Jackson. Why do you think Derek and I keep a mini-fridge in his bedroom?" Jackson frowned at the question as Stiles stood and collected his things. He pulled on his satchel and slapped Jackson on the shoulder with a mischevious smile. "You have no idea how awkward it is waddling to the kitchen for snacks when there's a dick trapped in your ass."

Cackling on his way out, Stiles exited the diner and left Jackson to absorb that truly traumatising piece of information.


End file.
